Author: chelleren

Many Indiana schools begin the school year in early August, so the teacher and parent Facebook posts remind me of the excitement of starting a new year and the classroom routines teachers establish in the first few weeks. One routine, practicing emergency drills, always elicits the “What if” questions. “What if we are in the bathroom and the fire alarm goes off? “What if the tornado AND fire alarm go off? Where do we go?” My answer, “What if an alien drops from the ceiling today?” usually ends this round of questioning with giggles and I direct the students to other activities. Later, in the teacher lounge, my colleagues and I compare notes and discover it to be a common line with younger students.

As we head closer to the August 15 move-in date of my parents to Waterford, our thoughts swirl with “What if?” questions. My mother, rapidly declining, could pass away soon, causing the “What if” questions to escalate.

“What if she passes away when Mitch is in India?” His maternal grandma passed away when he completing research in India many years ago. “What if she passes away when my niece has moved back to the university?” She moves to Tennessee next Monday. “What if she passes away when Chloe is in Ireland? She will be studying in Ireland for the semester. “What if she passes away before we move her to Waterford? Do we still move my father to Waterford? His long-term insurance is good for three years. My worst one is this: “What if I am doing errands when she passes away and I could have been right by her side?”These “what if” questions could consume our every thought if we allow it.

But then the words from this past week’s worship service remind me of God’s goodness. God knows the exact time when we enter and leave this life. Despite our sadness, we cling to the eternal hope we have in Him. He will work out the details in His perfect timing.

Sifting through my mother’s disorganized piles of cards, newspaper clippings, and photos, I discovered the wrinkled paper. This kind of document, worthy of a frame and showcased in some manner, made me stop my sorting and text a picture of it to my brother. “Holy cow! That is historical!” he immediately responded. The document, a note signed by former President Gerald Ford who was a congressman at the time, congratulated my mother on achieving United States citizenship.

My mother, along with her parents and family of eight immigrated to the United States in 1948 from the Netherlands, to what my grandfather hoped for a better life. They left two daughters behind due to the fact that they were older and close to marrying their boyfriends. Beautiful people in Chestertown, Maryland provided help for the family for a few years and then they moved again to Kalamazoo, Michigan. My grandfather, a Dutch Army sergeant in WWI and bulb grower, provided for his family by laboring at the Clarage Fan Company. According to a current Clarage employer, he must have worked at the Kalamazoo, Michigan location, now since bought out by a different company. I will need to ask my remaining uncle more details.

The details of my mother’s life, often vague because she didn’t want to talk about it, left me puzzled. What was it like leaving the Netherlands and your sisters? I would ask these and other questions, but she would dismiss them with a wave of her hand. ” You don’t want to hear old stories”, she responded. Out of respect, I did not press the issue because I wondered if it was painful.

I know that our sabbatical to the Netherlands, although a grand adventure, often left me confused about the people and its culture and homesick at times. In my journal, I sometimes wrote about missing American holidays, grateful that we would see American soil in just a few short months. I remember counting the days as I journaled here:

Today is September 22. Less than four weeks remain. I can tell I am ready to return because I keep having dreams about Kansas. The ATM machine won’t accept our card. We found out why– it’s expired. Now we have to wire money here. Pain. I guess we won’t be traveling to Britain now. Oh well.

What was it like, moving to another country and living in two different states? These questions still remain, but finding this document provided a few more answers. One thing is definite: God is faithful in every location. I have seen it and know I will see it again.

According to the statistics at http://www.move.org, around 35 million Americans move every year. I am not surprised. We counted 10 people who will be moving within our family circle. Some include, our middle son moving into the Purdue dorms, our daughter, spending her junior semester in Ireland, and then my parents transferring to Waterford, a long term healthcare facility, this week.

The process of moving, even if a small move, involves decluttering, purchasing new items, rearranging furniture and more paperwork. It means saying goodbye to friends, branching out to find new friends, and sometimes closing the door to past employment.

Our Michigan move seemed like the easiest move yet. “Don’t you need to unpack bunches of boxes?” someone inquired. “Not too many”, I answered. ” Think of our move as College Dorm Plus”. Our unfurnished rental, termed 1891, only required minimal furniture, although I have since purchased some other items.

However, I don’t know if I will be able to describe my parents’ upcoming move to Waterford as easy. My mother, a current patient at Freedom Village, will need to be transported via am-bu-cab, a vehicle for disabled individuals. My father, even though he saw Waterford, has expressed some sadness about leaving Royal Park. “What about my recliner?” he asked me. “They have really nice recliners there, Dad.” “But what about my tools? I like looking at them.” The tools, tucked away in his closet, suddenly became his focus point. We decided that some type of display would help him recall the times when he completed various household tasks. Other questions fill my mind. What pictures should be displayed? How can we create a new home for them?

Waterford, a beautiful facility, offers an environment unlike others I visited. Beautiful plants, soothing decor tastefully decorated, and the SAIDO learning program fill us with excitement. But will it excite and motivate them?

The mere words, birthday party, generate a sense of excitement and enthusiasm with people of all ages. In elementary school, these words can distract students for the entire day! I discovered that older people find the words exciting, too.

“Get up, Mom!” I announced as I entered her room. She was in her bed, a negative sight in the middle of the afternoon. “We have to get to the birthday party!” She immediately perked up. “Who? What? Where is it?” she asked. “It’s a birthday party, here in Gazebo Place. Hurry up! We don’t want to miss it!” The nurses helped her into the wheel chair, and we were off to the birthday party on the first floor.

Balloons greeted us upon arrival as well as the other residents who stared at me, wondering what I was going to do. “Did you play any games?” I asked. “That is just not something I do”, muttered a resident.” I persisted. “What about singing?” I inquired. “Yes,” they nodded. I led the singing and kept it traditional, even though it is always fun to sing the part elementary students enjoy. At the end of the song, we sometimes sing, “And many more, on channel four, with Scooby Doo….” However, I decided that could be too confusing!The aide brought us all kinds of goodies to eat– cupcakes, fruit, mixed nuts, and drinks which filled the air with a festive feel. The beautiful weather allowed us to sit in Gazebo Place and enjoy the party, given in honor of all residents with August birthdays.

Upon arriving back at 1891, I searched through my 2005 sabbatical journal for the birthdays we witnessed in the Netherlands.

Friday– Chloe went to a birthday party! Can you believe that she was invited to a party in another country? Caden was sad even after we explained it was only for girls. She was picked up by Mr. Ware, our American friend, and didn’t come back until 6 PM! A pinata’, tacos, and a craft kept them busy. Even though the Dutch girls basically ignored her, Chloe’ didn’t mind. The busy party caused her to fall asleep at 7:30.

Friday– We attended a birthday party for Baps, our neighbor. It included singing the Dutch birthday song, eating goodies, and listening to Baps’ friend share a special poem, written in honor of Baps’ birthday. Now I understand why my father always insists on writing poetry for our birthdays!

I wonder how many more Michigan birthday parties I will enjoy. Will we celebrate my mother’s birthday on September 24?

Although caregivers complete a variety of assignments, I feel that driving someone to a medical appointment is in a rank of its own. Keeping track of the time, picking up the patient, driving to the correct destination, and carefully listening to the doctor seems so minor but it can feel like climbing “Mt.Medical Everest”. I breathe a sigh of relief when it is over and feel like a student, completing another part of the class syllabus. I am thankful for my sister-in-law’s medical training when I need to decipher a term.

Driving my father to his medical appointment this past Monday included many miles. I drove to Zeeland to pick him up, drove him to Wyoming to attend the appointment, transported him back to his condo in Zeeland so we could complete his laundry and cleaning, and then drove him to Holland so he could see my mom. Needless to say, I will be at the gas station soon again.

Another part of medical appointments are the additional tasks still needed to complete such as an eye exam, flu vaccine, and shingles vaccine. It could be termed ” Part a, b, and c” since each task is rather different. On Friday, I will drive him to an eye appointment. The shingle vaccine, on back order, will require an additional visit. Last, the flu vaccine, will take place in October. I need to add all of these notes to our shared Google calendar because sometimes it is too much to remember.

When these details overwhelm, I think about the many caregivers who complete these tasks on a regular basis: stay- at- home parents, parents of special needs children, parents whose children with cancer or another type of challenging illness, and grandparents who graciously take care of their grandchildren on a regular basis. At times, it becomes exhausting to remember the paperwork, the list of medicines, and anything else. It’s a wonder that I am somewhat keeping track of the rest of my family- a daughter leaving for semester abroad, a son beginning the university, and another son starting a new high school. I definitely have a new appreciation for a caregiver in any situation.

Yet, through it all, God shows His almighty hand. Esther 4: 14 comes to mind again and again. ” And who knows that you were placed in Michigan for such a time as this?”

One of the best gifts my parents provided, my Christian high school education, provided me with fantastic friends I still connect with to this day. Last night, I thought of this again, unexpectedly meeting my friend’s mom while out exercising. Thinking about Corey attending my former high school fills me with excitement others in the community may find surprising. However, I am eagerly awaiting his junior year, hoping that his experience will match mine to some level.

Earlier this summer, the retiring principal, George, graciously allowed us to tour this brand new facility. It’s hard not to gush over the creativity infused throughout the building and marvel at the way the architects designed it with the students in mind. However, I reminded myself that it’s the teachers, students, and families who make the building what it is supposed to be– a facility that honors our King. In the words of Natalie Grant’s song, ” Song to the King”–

To the King eternal immortal, Be all the glory forever, amen.

My dad’s email, indicating that he was reading about SAIDO, surprised me. SAIDO, a Japanese method of helping Alzheimer and patients with dementia, is supposed to help and is one reason we are moving my parents to Waterford next week. The Waterford director fully believes that it could change my mother’s eating habits, help her converse, and provide a rich environment. I wondered if my father was reading the articles for himself or my mother.

Last week, when touring Waterford and listening to the director, it was hard not to get caught up in her enthusiasm. ” We even use special pens to help with memory loss,” she told us. It reminded me of the special pencils we sometimes use in elementary schools to help children gain fine-motor skills. But children are young. Will this really benefit my aging parents?

Last week, the team of medical professionals informed my brother that hospice is the best course of action for my mother. This sobering and startling news caused me to ask more questions. Can SAIDO change a medical recommendation? They also view my mother’s upcoming Waterford move as disruptive to her cognition. Are they right? I often ponder these questions as August 14 draws closer.

https://patch.com/minnesota/goldenvalley/saido-learning-brings-hope-those-dementia

The Dutch phrase, “Eet Smakelijk”, synonymous with ” Bon Appetit”, is one we often heard at different family gatherings. It usually brings a smile to our faces because of the last ” ckkk” sound often uttered within Dutch circles. I sometimes use the phrase at mealtimes as well.

Spending time in the dining room with my mother is a definite challenge as I spoon feed anything I think she might enjoy. ” What about ice cream? ” I ask with energy. “That’s enough, ” she usually answers, and pushes the food away. At a mere 71 pounds, it is essential that she eats so I persist and use my teacher voice. ” Mom, you need to eat” as I place the ice cream near her mouth. Amazingly, she listens.

Mom is placed at a certain table which could be named “The Resisters”. Two other patients and a nurse’s aide sit at the round table.The aide works diligently to help the patients eat the prepared food. The scene reminds me of times when I fed our toddler children, eyes focused on every swallow. The strangest sight is when my mother stares at the other patients and they stare back at her. What are they thinking?

The nurses are trying everything to encourage my mother to eat. Pancakes, cheeseburgers, ice cream are some of the choices. Come on, Mom! Eet Smakelijk! However, it is ultimately her decision to eat to aid her recovery process.

Waterford, the facility where my parents are heading on August 14, claims that “the resisters” start eating again because of their approach. But how will they do that?

According to their website, the facility offers brain- friendly meal choices. What does that include that will be different that what she currently receives? How will they encourage her to eat when she tells them ” You are being bossy” or “That’s enough” and pushes the food away?

I look forward to seeing this approach in action so we can say our Dutch phrase together.

Finding her felt like locating a piece of my mother, now gone. I think that emotions spilled out because I remember how my mother would faithfully send little notes to those in need, visit nursing home residents from church, and ask others about their health status when sick.There I stood, in her room, crying and hugging a beautiful Royal Park resident: Lois.

In midst of my tears, I explained how her notes deeply touched me in ways I found difficult to explain. The words, ” Miss you at the table” made me weep because I miss her at the table, too. I miss the little picnics, Bob Evans’ meals, and family dinners. Now, our table meals consist of me feeding her most of the time, encouraging her to consume the calories her frail body so desperately needs.

I somehow managed to control my emotions and discovered commonalities. Her late husband, led a church in northern Michigan, where I lived for a year when teaching. One of her sons is someone I connected with several years ago in Lafayette. But my biggest thrill was learning that she was a former third grade teacher. ” I knew it! I could tell by your handwriting and the little smiley faces that you were a teacher!” I hugged her again and knew that this short meeting would have to continue. I must hear her third grade stories!

One unexpected part of the meeting, however, was her emotion at learning that my parents will be leaving Royal Park to head to Waterford, a long- term facility with a memory care unit. She kept saying, ” This is such sad news.” I wondered if I did the right thing. She mentioned how difficult it was to see people leave the home. I wish I had thought of that part before our visit. I know how difficult it is to see friends move away. ” Please give me their address,” she implored. I promised that I would because I know I have to see her again. It needs to be part of this journey.

Besides communicating with parents and students regarding educational matters, sending cards, organizing meal sign-ups, and collecting gift cards are some ways I witness fellow teaching colleagues share kindness with others in times of need. Now, I am on the other side as I receive various types of communication regarding my mother’s health.

I have reread the cards to my mother who, surprisingly, remembers those who communicated. “She is from church” or ” They are from Royal Park” are some of her answers as her eyes remain closed.

The communication varies from texts and posts to cards and calls, but it reminds of the importance of always reaching out to those who face a life-changing situation. It helps knowing how others have also faced this journey. God is good all the time. All the time, God is good.